Garnet
by Nightsmoke
Summary: Five themes told from different Hellsing characters' perspectives. Suggestions are welcome! Themes vary from angsty to funny to sweet, etc.
1. Dark

**Garnet**

This will be a five-chapter story, so if you were thinking to yourself, "not another one-chapter one-shot," here's a disappointment! For those of you that are artists, you may have heard of the _100 Theme Challege_ on DeviantART. I picked a random five and decided to play around with style. Please review if you have any suggestions, of if you think I should do more than five. Thanks!

**All characters of Hellsing © Hirano Kouta**

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1. **Dark**

_Alucard_

The nightmares jolt me awake often in the middle of the daytime. Frequently I find my snow-marble cheeks soaked in a strange red substance still moist enough to stain my gloves when I touch my face.

I snort mentally. Horrordreams. After living through nearly six hundred years of them, I should be used to it by now. Dreaming was a human thing, hardly commendable for the likes of me.

But did that mean that there was some human left in me after all? Some vestige of folly found only in the subconscious? Nonsense: I am one of the undead now, a creature of the night and hell itself. There is no room for humanity.

On such occasion one day when the sun was full and red in the sky, after awaking from a hellish rendition of my past tainted crimson, I wondered if every being dreamt, not just humans.

I knew that I had once been human, but that was a long, long time ago, in a forgotten time and place.

I was called a monster by humans and vampires alike. Called a monster by the monsters, how ironic. I often ask my prey if they are dogs, humans, or monsters right before I end their lives.

After a while you start to wonder who the monster really is.

I raise my hands to my face to smear away the thick scarlet tears that stream from my equally scarlet eyes. I am infuriated by the slight tremble to my hand. Although my heart no longer beats, it is still there, and it often hurts terribly for a reason I can't comprehend.

Just what am I, anyway?

I can't deny that I am an all-powerful being. Anyone would quake in their boots just from hearing the three syllables of my name, and those that didn't were the ones who couldn't comprehend my power even in their wildest dreams.

I no longer feel the regrets of murder as I have lost track of the numbers that I've killed. I can kill anything now without hesitation. My master tells me to "search and destroy." I have no problems following her orders.

Yet, no matter how fragile and ephemeral humans are, I can't help but envy them. When the burdens of life become too much to bear, they can simply die, and their existence would vanish into this pungent air.

I am not subject to such exoneration.

They can sleep without the weight of millions of souls plaguing their dreams, driving them almost mad day in and day out.

They haven't seen hell, haven't lived in a world of carnage so vivid and heavy that no one hears you when you scream.

They don't know what it's like to be killed countless times in various ways and never die.

That's why I feel genuine anger at those in the world who wish for immortality, those who would kill for a flawless and superior body that never ages nor ills. Why would one condemn one's self to their own purgatory?

I don't feel much of anything anymore, but when I see these young, foolish beings that my master sends me to destroy, I want to scream. Because they don't understand.

At the scene of my death, light has always been present. Has the light of the sun ever been such a beautiful thing? It's so dark in here, everywhere. I can't find the light. Oh, I wish for a truly worthy opponent to fight one day. I wanted someone who will battle me on par. Then maybe I would be put to sleep at last. Then maybe I'll find some light.

Or will there be nightmares there too?

End.

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	2. Keeping a Secret

**Garnet**

I will be going away for a week, but expect three more chapters after that, when I can. I have a lot of schoolwork to do, but I'll try. I need to satiate my creative needs somehow.

**All characters of Hellsing © Kouta Hirano**2. **Keeping a Secret.**

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Integra and Alucard

-

_After living for ten years with a vampire who not only has enhanced hearing, but can also be at any place at any time undetected, I have found that secrets are hard to keep. Alucard and I are relatively open with one another in the peculiar Median/human-master/servant relationship that we have together._

I've raised my Master since she was a little girl, shaping and developing her into the strong, powerful leader I knew she'd turn out to be. I've always been around to see that Integra stays on the straight and narrow and am surprised at how strong a resemblance she bears to her father (although I must say she is a great deal more persevering and disciplined than he ever was). And, although I cannot read her mind, I find at times that it's not terribly difficult to read her thoughts. I'm sure that it's the same way with her, after all of these years.

_But, there are some things about my servant that he doesn't know I know. They're my little secrets._

But, there are some things about Master that she doesn't know I know. They're my little secrets.

_For example, I know that every Halloween, Alucard flies out to Cheddar just to scare the trick-or-treaters._

For instance, I know that when Master was eleven, she kicked her uncle Richard in the crotch because he had tried to give her the talk about the "birds" and the "bees."

_He's not aware that I know about his little schemes, but at times I've overheard him and Walter talking late at night when I am presumed asleep._

She doesn't think I know about this, since it was before my awakening. However, Walter can prove to be quite the entertainer when we're sitting around into the hours of dawn and the butler's had a spot too much brandy.

_Alucard doesn't know that I know about the one and only time he decided to try my Wintermans(1) out of curiosity when I wasn't around. The first drag got him coughing and sneezing so badly that he had to go dunk his head in water to recover. I assume that he didn't tell me because he was afraid I'd laugh at him. Truthfully, I probably would have. _

Integra would shoot me with my own Jackal if she ever found out that I know about her licorice stash on the second floor. Even Walter doesn't know about that, and believe me; he knows this house pretty darn well. I'm not even going to tell you where she hides it, only that Master can be rather…creative when the need arises.

_And then there are other things, other secrets that I know about Alucard that sometimes I wish I didn't._

Other things I've discovered about my Master surprise me.

_He doesn't know that I've seen him cry._

I know that sometimes Integra doesn't sleep at night, forced awake by a troubled mind.

_I do not know what he would do if he learned that after his first encounter with the Judas Priest in Badrick, I saw him take a blood packet from the freezer and stamp on it so hard that it resembled nothing more than bits of shredded plastic when he was done._

She's not aware that on rainy nights I phase into her room and watch her sleep when she is able to and listen to her mumble and mutter. She talks a lot in her sleep—I do not believe she is aware of this fact. My Master always says the same things over and over again, always talks about the same people, but I do not mind staying to listen. She says she is afraid of losing everyone.

_Alucard may or may not wonder why there are plenty of type B's in the blood cooler, even when we are running low on stock. It is because I always make sure that there is a constant abundance of that kind—I know that it is his favorite. _

…Whenever I hear her troubled sleepings, I drift down and whisper in her ear, "I'll always be there," in hopes to ease my Master's slumber.

_Come to think of it…there is very little about my servant that I don't know._

Come to think of it…there is hardly anything about my Master that I don't know.

End.

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(1) Wintermans: the brand of cigars Integra smokes.


	3. Mirror

**Garnet**

Wow, two chapters in one day? I was in a creative mood and got my packing done early. I'm leaving tomorrow, so don't expect anything for a week or so. --This chapter gave me a lot of trouble; I wasn't quite sure how to write it. I don't write for Seras a lot, so her perspective was hard to get down too. Hope you enjoy nonetheless!

**All characters of Hellsing © Kouta Hirano**

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2. **Mirror**.

_Seras_

_-_

A British girl physically just arriving in her twenties, with a rather voluptuous physique.

Short, sandy-blonde hair, shoulder length, cropped in an unruly style that often had her blowing bangs out of her eyes with her bottom lip.

Petite waist, appearing even smaller than it is due to her large upper torso.

Eyes a round smoky-blue marble, the irises still untouched from the contamination of human blood that would undoubtedly turn the azure into a vivid crimson.

Yes, I know how I look. Frankly, I could care less about my appearance. I don't really mind the Hellsing apparel, although sometimes it gets a bit uncomfortable to crouch down in such a short and form-fitting skirt. Unfortunately at the Organization, the guys here seem to care more about my looks than I do.

Honestly, do all mens' brains lie in their genetalia?

I sometimes wish that people around me would pay more attention to my other attributes that lie outside the physical realm of my being--my combat skills, for instance. I can tote a 120 lb. Harkonnen that tears bullets through stone walls for goodness sake and all the crew cares about is staring at my ass while I fire.

That fucking French-faggot Bernadette is the worst (I'd say "pardon my French," but the irony is too much to bear). At times I think he hangs out with me just to look at my breasts and nothing else. I don't care if he has his good looks…I suppose they compensate for his diminutive cognitive functions, though.

To be frank, I don't care much for mirrors. They are _way_ too symbolic for shiny pieces of glass. You can glance into one and see yourself exactly as you are, and then the rest is up to your interpretation. Only the sanest being in the world can see his reflection and be truly happy.

Here at the Hellsing Organization, sanity is optional.

…Unless you're Captain-Narcissist down the hall who can't be pulled away from his reflection for ten minutes. I fail to see the attractiveness of a butt-length braid, but apparently it is the quote "_douceur de vivre_, my _Mignonette,_" un-quote.

My Master, on the other hand, is equally vain but has no need for mirrors-- if he's not happy with what is there, he can just morph into another shape that fits his desires.

I think Lady Integra has just abandoned the mirror altogether, even though in my opinion, she is prettier than any vampire. Perhaps she thinks she is not attractive. Or perhaps she does not wish to see herself as others see her.

On a different note, sometimes I'm afraid to look into the mirror too; I might see all of my fears laid out bare. Fear for my Master, of my Master. Fear of disappointing my Master's Master. Fear of letting the innocent die.

Fear of drinking blood—fear of my identity.

I'm told on numerous occasions that I must not shy away from who I am, because it will find me eventually. Irrevocably, I am a Median. A nightwalker, a fanged denizen of darkness, a freak, call it what you will.

Nothing can change that fact, no matter how long I postpone the consumption of the blood of what I used to be. The mirror's told me that I'm beautiful, cute in a short, pixie-like way that is a painful reminder of my human innocence. How can a being be so pure, yet so tainted all at the same time?

Seras Victoria, a girl of contradictions. I regard the mirror as a foe simply because it shows me myself. I really need to abandon these vestiges of human instinct struggling beneath a growing mass of draculine blood. I need blood to survive, yet I am reluctant to drink it. It's hard to let go of inconsequential human things such as desire and acceptance. I cling to my innocence yet I kill my own kind and watch as their innards squelch onto my skin—

—Wow, that was a little dark, even for me. I should really stop these mental musings; they put me in a bit of a snit. Perhaps I should go break Captain Bernadette's nose again to see if it'll make me feel better. It probably will. _Je m'en fous_ (1).

Now that I look back on the last year or so, I realize becoming a vampire wasn't that difficult. Leaving my humanity behind was.

So, when I look into the mirror, what will I see? A monster? Some human-shape that used to be a girl, some womanthing with eyes of scarlet and snarled fangs? Something unidentifiable, reeking in blood that's not my own? What will be there?

Too bad vampires don't cast reflections.

_End._

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(1) French saying that roughly translates into "I don't give a fuck." P


	4. Playing the Melody

**Garnet**

DON'T WORRY! The next one will be funny!

**All characters of Hellsing © Hirano Kouta**

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4. Schrodinger. **Playing the Melody**

.

_Where am I?_

If one were to study music, one's theory teacher might or might not tell them that the definition of _harmony_ is "the opposite of melody." Harmony can be described as the logical structure of music, the pattern and progression of chords, the backbone to what we hear. On the other hand, the melody is an arrangement of pitches that play off that harmony, a succession of sounds that outline and rise from that chordal structure, a free-flowing line.

One might compare the others and I to the harmony, and the Major to the melody.

Fortunately I never bothered taking music theory.

But, I'll let you in on a little secret. The Major is not the only one capable of playing the melody.

Who would have thought that me, this little boy with soft hair blonder than straw and mydriatic violet eyes…

_Didn't I tell you? I'm ubiquitous, yet my existence is only imaginary. _

This little Nazi kitten…

_The poison has been spilled, Major. Shall I feed it to him?_

…could be capable of destroying the No Life King? Who indeed.

"Yes, my boy," He told me. "Do it now and finish our symphony of defeat with a dissonant chord! A tritone, a minor second, a diminished seventh, any would suffice! The vampyre that a million armies could never dream of destroying in a millennia, one child will vanquish simply by mixing his blood with his own. I have won, have I not? You have made me proud, Cheshire."

Once everywhere and nowhere, both dead and alive, I'm not anywhere now, neither dead or alive.

_Where am I now, Major? Who am I?_

"Denizens of the night, my dear boy. Now, quick! While the fires still blaze bright in a victory I have long waited for…_Shokun_…let's raise hell."

Who is there to say that I cannot play the melody once and a while? I wouldn't necessarily call myself a harmony, the sanity behind the music—for who is really sane here? But, must I always be the harmony, the structure behind the music so it does not turn into a cacophony of jumbled vibrations?

_I see the Major atop of our blimp, hair billowing out frantically, gesturing wildly at the sky, at the balefire and purgatory around him. One might think he was being electrocuted by the sky, but on a closer look…_

…_You'd see that he was conducting. This was his melody now._

Yet, his melody would be nothing without me. I killed the ancient blood-eyed manthing that stood in our way for half a century. Me.

_But now, I see many things, many memories that don't belong to me. They confuse me._

I bet you didn't know that the Major actually prefers music in minor keys. He believes that morose tones are more inspiring.

A bit of an oxymoron, that is.

Major prefers minor.

_Now I am inside the Median, somewhere. I don't know where. But here, I see everything and everyone inside him. I know all of their thoughts._

_I know _his_ thoughts._

I finally got to play the melody, and God, it was quite a catchy tune.

_Too many minds to see, I don't know where I am or where I am supposed to be. They are driving me insane. Being inside his mind. _

I passed the theme on to the Major now. I think he'll like it. Look, I see him conducting it, still. Haha, he looks a bit like a penguin in that white suit.

It's a bit scary in here, I can't find myself.

A penguin? No, more like a maestro.

Conducting

a melody

that I composed.

_Who am I? Who…who…_

…_who…_


	5. Family

**Garnet**

PLEASE READ: This is the last chapter of this story. However, if you enjoyed it and want more, review or send me a message, and I may add to it if people want me to continue. Thanks!

A/N: this was fun to write, although I thought I could have done better. This is a normal off-day at Hellsing, from Pip Bernadette's perspective.

**All characters of Hellsing © Hirano Kouta**

--

5. Pip Bernadette: **Family**

.

Pip woke to the warm glow of the morning sun streaming onto his quilts in bright patches. Well, maybe _woke _wasn't the best terminology to be used. _Woken up_ would have probably been a better choice of words, which Pip was so abruptly at 6:04 in the morning.

He growled a stream of incomprehensible French at his analog clock, trying to decipher the reason for his rather early awakening.

CRASH.

_"Go to bed, you ignoramus!"_ could be audible from the floor above. Pip heard another tinkling crash followed by deep, raucous laughter. The mercenary pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. Usually Lady Integra didn't start shouting until seven, regardless of her daily caffeine intake. Today was going to be a long day, he surmised.

Oh, well. As long as he was up, Pip decided he might as well prepare for the morning. He grabbed a wooly towel and headed downstairs towards the shower room in the troops' barracks. Freeing his thick copper hair from its braid, Pip strode into the bathroom…

…and walked in on Seras Victoria emerging from her shower.

"C-Captain!" she stammered, scrambling for her towel.

"Why do you cover yourself, Mignonette?" Pip drawled, once again letting his mouth speak before his brain. Or rather, letting his mouth speak before his brain had the opportunity to quell his rather dirty question. "I rather prefer you with ze towel off—"

Unfortunately the poor captain did not get much farther before Seras flicked his face so hard that his forehead began to bruise upon contact. "Owch, girlie," he mumbled dejectedly, placing a hand to his tender brow. Seras stormed off to dress for the day. Pip couldn't help but admire the view of the female soldier's backside scantly clad in a towel as she slinked away.

After his shower, the one-eyed mercenary dressed and made his way over to the pantry, glad for an early breakfast for once. This meant that he could get to those decadent butter croissants before any of his troops.

Or so he thought.

"Why, good morning, Captain Bernadette," an elderly butler greeted him upon his entrance to the kitchen. For an old man, Walter was too "pip-pip-cheerio" in the mornings for Pip's liking. The veteran noticed him peering into the cupboard and said, "I'm afraid we're out of croissants this morning. You'll have to make due on Ceylon tea for now, Captain."

Pip groaned and rolled his good eye, drawing up to the table with a cigarette and waiting for his tea. At that moment, Alucard decided to make his entrance, phasing in eerily through the kitchen wall.

"Alucard, you're up late this morning," Walter remarked offhandedly without looking up. This had occurred on too many occasions for the butler to be even remotely surprised.

The Nosferatu chuckled, a dark bubbling sound and grinned deviously. "Master threw her ashtray at me this morning," he rumbled.

"May I ask what you did to provoke her this time?"

The vampire never got the chance to answer due to the debut of the young woman in question.

"Come now, Master," Alucard protested innocently, noticing her irate blue eyes piercing daggers from behind her rounded spectacles. "I was only having a bit of fun."

Integra drew her pistol. "Well, I suggest you go have 'a bit of fun' somewhere else before I decide to shoot you in other places besides your head," she seethed lowly. Her servant got the drift and abruptly glided out of the room. Even No-Life Kings had their limits.

Pip stood up, handing his empty mug over to Walter. "I'm terribly sorry that we were out of croissants this morning, Captain," the butler said apologetically. "We should have a new stock in by tomorrow."

The mercenary nodded and also left, making his way down towards the troops' barracks once again. Time for morning training. A few of his fellow soldiers clapped Pip cheerily on the back as he entered, being their usual rowdy selves.

"Alright, settle down, settle down, you know ze drill," he called out to his men, who formed into a line, the last vestiges of their morning-chatter dribbling away.

Once he could hear himself, Pip began. "Today's target practice. I'm sure I don't need to tell you by now to aim for ze head or ze heart—"

"—I'm sure if they were targets of _her_ the Captain would have no trouble hitting there—"

"Zomezing to say?" Pip asked the young soldier who had made that remark to a fellow teammate, who had not even bothered to say it softly.

"No, Sir!" The young man said, although it was blatantly apparent to the troops (as well as to Pip) that he was lying. You just had to take one look at that feigned innocent stare.

"I will ignore that remark," Bernadette miffed, taking a breath to continue with his morning drill.

"—Aw, come on, we know you have the hots for Agent Victoria," another one of his men said before he knew what he was doing. A few others agreed.

Pip's cheeks sprinkled over rosy. "And when did zhat become part of your business?" He asked dangerously, although he hadn't exactly tried to hide his affection for the draculina during his stay at the Hellsing Organization.

Another soldier piped up, "Have you tried asking her out yet?"

"And what does zis have to do with training?"

"Come on, Captain Bernadette…"

The one-eyed mercenary sighed. "Yez, I have, for your information. Happy now?" Luckily no one could see his ears beneath his hair, for they were glowing bright red.

"No luck?" Pip grumbled something incoherent. One of the braver soldiers stepped forward and looped an elbow around his neck, grinning.

"Captain, you gotta approach her the right way. Woo her with your charm. Get into the mindset that you are unbelievably sexy."

"I kno—I mean, sure," Pip replied, temporarily forgetting about training. "But what am I going to say: 'want to go out for coffee?' She can't drink it! 'Want to go kill some ghouls togezher?' Zhat's not exactly romantic in my book."

"Hmm…"

The troops seemed to contemplate for a moment. Someone opened their mouth to speak but before they could, a familiar crimson shadow melted through the wall into the room, scaring more than a few of Pip's men.

"What are you doing up, vampire?" he asked the figure as it solidified.

"There's no way I can sleep with this much fun going on," Alucard replied simply. He removed his orange sunglasses expertly. "So what is this I hear about courting with my servant, human?"

Pip mentally slapped his forehead (an actual slap would have resulted in even more pain). He should have counted on the vampire overhearing. "Oh, really, erm, it's nothing—"

"I would think twice before telling me 'nothing,'" Alucard growled. "I came all the way down to this filthy place, so don't spoil my fun now." He eyed Pip's troops observantly, brightening up. "So, how will you do it, Frenchman?"

"What? I mean, I'm not sure yet," Bernadette groaned, refusing to believe that he was discussing something like this to a five-hundred year old count.

"You could always ask her to suck your blood!" One of his newer men quipped from the back row. This produced a few snickers.

"How about his, human," Alucard spoke, surprising them all. "I'll wake Police Girl up, and you take her for a daytime stroll in the garden. There is nothing more romantic than nature."

And Pip said nothing, knowing better than to question someone more than thirty times your age with a taste for human blood.

--

"So, what was so important that you felt the need to wake me up in the middle of the day?" Seras asked Pip, her blue eyes bright and sparkling in the afternoon sun.

"Eh…" Pip scratched the top of his head. "I just wanted to apologize for zis morning, Mignonette," he told her sheepishly. Alucard and a few of his troop members flashed him a thumbs-up from behind the tall shrubbery. _Remember, you're unbelievably sexy._

"And I wanted to make it up to you." Seras gave the captain a wide-eyed stare but said nothing. They walked in a semi-awkward silence around the garden, occasionally making small talk. Of course Pip wasn't able to receive instructions on what to do from his men, seeing as how vampires had enhanced hearing and would immediately pick up on the followers.

_"Compare her to something beautiful in the garden,"_ Alucard had said. Pip swallowed audibly, deciding to go for it.

"You know, Mignonette, you remind me of a bumble-bee," the mercenary said smoothly, looking at the vampire with an emerald eye. He had just seen a bee buzz out from inside the bud of a flower.

"Really captain?" Seras inquired, cocking her blonde head in a gesture that Pip found beyond adorable. "How so?"

"Well, for one thing, your hair is zhat same lovely shade of yellow, and you both remind me of sweet honey." The corners of Seras's lips turned up with the slightest indication of flattery.

"Also you're both rather round, especially in ze derriere, and your stings are rather painful."

Shit.

Seras scowled and let loose a feral, guttural snarl. "Well thank you, _Captain_," she hissed. "Now if you don't mind I'll be going back to bed. And feel free to look at my 'round derriere' as I leave you out here to be stung by the bees. Good night!" And with that, the Police Girl stormed off in a huff.

He could hear a distant cackling from behind the bush, mingled with the schadenfreudic mirth of all of his troops.

"_Merde,"_ Bernadette said softly to himself.

--

By the time supper had come around, the blue skies had darkened into indigo, the white fluffclouds transforming into tenebrous grays. Rain showered the earth in soft patters, confining soldiers and medians alike inside the Hellsing mansion. The troops' barracks had become too soggy to eat in, so tonight they all dined with Lady Integra and the higher-ups.

It was not pretty.

Pip could not believe the lack of etiquette displayed by his troops at the table. Where had they been raised, on the farm? The captain winced as a soldier emitted a hearty belch right next to Sir Integra, who stifled the urge to fan at the air.

"—So then I told him that I don't give a rat's—"

Pip elbowed the soldier next to him who had been on the verge of making a remark not quite appropriate for a British dinner table. His men were too gruff and rowdy. Seras was still in a snit, refusing to talk to him. Pip sighed. That was alright; they had been through this drill countless times. She would warm up again by tomorrow evening.

After dinner some of the men invited Pip for a smoke and he gladly obliged. The skies had cleared up enough to step outside again, that clear, after-rain smell lingering in the nighttime air like the sweet aroma of freshly-baked pastries.

By the time eleven had rolled around, most of Bernadette's men had retired, leaving Pip to wander around the manor amidst the moonlight. And, as always on most nights, he joined Walter for a spot on the verandah.

"I have to admit, I'm still not used to zis brandy," he told the butler. "I usually drink Bugey."

"It's an acquired taste," Walter replied comfortably.

Pip, although having consumed half a glass already, was startled by the loud bang that sounded from somewhere from a few floors above. Walter rolled his eyes and adjusted his monocle nonchalantly.

"I daresay Alucard is up, wouldn't you, Captain?"

An hour later, Pip trudged up to his sleeping quarters, thoroughly exhausted. He whipped around instinctively as he heard quick footsteps rapidly approaching. He gave a sigh of relief; it was only Lady Integra, still fully clothed.

"Good evening, Sir," Pip addressed the Hellsing Head with a little bow. She nodded curtly, cigar clamped between her lips.

"Good evening, Captain Bernadette." Integra swished past him, muttering under her breath, "Once I catch that blasted vampire I shall personally &!# his , and…"

She stopped suddenly, and saw Pip still standing motionless in the corridor. "What are you looking at, Captain? Off to bed with you!" And she huffed away in a whisk of blonde hair and smoke.

Pip permitted himself to chuckle only when he thought Sir Integra was out of earshot. After changing into his nightclothes, the mercenary flopped tiredly onto his mattress and rolled over to stare at the moon glowing outside his window.

You got used to the craziness at Hellsing. Nothing was ever normal around here.

But, strangely enough, Pip didn't mind the daily chaos. At first he had been reluctant to take on the job. At first he had not believed in vampires. At first all he cared about was the money.

Things were different now.

For the first time, Pip Bernadette felt as if he genuinely _belonged._ He couldn't explain it, and even if he attempted to it would come out sounding like a bunch of codswallop. A mercenary, living with Dracula and his master, a twenty-two year old virgin, alongside with a former World War II assassin and an ex-policewoman fledgling vampire? Absurd.

Yet, this was the first place Pip actually felt like calling home. The money had become so inconsequential, replaced by other things not so tangible and shiny. His men were good, all fairly honorable in their own way or another. Alucard taught him new things every day, and Pip had a new motivation for working hard—someone with a rather large upper torso and strawberry blonde hair, to be exact. Lady Hellsing had showed him that women were just as if not more powerful in their scary way than men, and Walter had showed him the wisdom of the elderly.

They all had become his family.

That night Pip Bernadette slept soundly, anticipating the new adventures tomorrow would hold, not even waking to the sound of reports coming from Integra's bedroom quarters at 2:30 am or the maniacal laughter that followed.

_The End._


End file.
